


All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Sam hitches a ride back to Palo Alto and meets a mysterious woman.





	All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You

It was fucking pouring, of course, the rain coming down so hard he could barely see his hand in front of his face. He’d left his goddamn jacket hanging on the back of the cabin door, the cabin that was now two hundred fifty miles behind him.  

Sam was cold, wet, and tired. He’d been walking for hours, catching a ride here and there, going maybe fifty, seventy-five miles before his feet would be pounding the pavement again. Now he was stuck in the rain on the side of the road, cold and miserable, Palo Alto still almost four hours away. He been trying to get a ride for the last twenty minutes, but it was late, there were hardly any cars on the road, and those that were didn’t seem willing to pick up a guy who looked like a drowned rat. For the first time in two years, he found himself wishing he’d hear the roar of the Impala bearing down on him. He’d deal with seeing Dad and Dean if it meant getting out of this rain.

He’d resigned himself to finding an abandoned building or something to spend the night in, or at least until the rain stopped, when a pair of headlights swept over him, the car coming to a stop twenty yards away. He ran to catch it, not wanting whoever was inside to change their mind. He pulled open the door and peered inside.

A woman sat behind the wheel, maybe a couple of years older than him, a shy smile on her face. She gestured for him to get in, which he did, apologizing for dripping water on her seat. She shrugged it off, put the car in gear and pulled back onto the road.

She asked him where he was going, offered to drive him as far as she could, still smiling. He wasn’t used to women picking him up when he hitchhiked, they were (rightfully) nervous to pick up strange men on the side of the road. But she seemed completely at ease, asking him questions, listening closely to his answers. He liked her right away; she had a calming presence. Even when their conversation naturally faded away, he didn’t feel awkward or weird, like he so often did when riding with strangers. He relaxed, staring out the window, the weeks of hard work and exhaustion catching up with him.

He’d been in northern California, near Crescent City, working since school had gotten out in May. He was due back for the start of classes in a week. Hoping to save some of the money he’d earned over the summer, he’d opted to hitchhike back rather than take a bus. That had been three days ago and he’d done more walking than riding. It felt good to sit.

He was only half awake, so groggy that he thought he might be imagining things when he felt the car slowing and turning. He opened his eyes and sat up, not realizing he’d slumped in his seat, or how close to sleep he’d actually been.

The car was parked in front of a hotel, lights off, engine still rumbling. She was sitting in the seat beside him, hands folded her in lap, staring down at them, a curious look on her face. He opened his mouth to speak, to thank her for the ride, figuring this was the end of the line, but before he could say anything, she turned to him, her arms going around his neck, her lips on his, kissing him. Surprised, he kissed her back, his hand cupping her cheek, his body leaning toward hers across the small seat of the car.

She was the one who pulled away first, the question clear in her eyes. He nodded, his response prompting her to grab her purse from the back, shut off the car and get out, hurrying inside the hotel office. He scooped his backpack off the floor and unfolded himself from the small, economy-sized car, stepping under the awning covering the sidewalk outside the rooms. He leaned against a pillar that he wasn’t sure would hold him and waited. He wasn’t used to a woman taking charge, reining him in. He was the one that needed to be in control, the one who dictated what happened every step of the way. This was new to him.

It wasn’t long before she emerged from the office, took a sharp right and started up the stairs. He followed.

He caught up with her outside the door to the room. She was leaning against it, waiting. As soon as he was close enough, she grabbed the lapels of his wrinkled and damp shirt, guiding him back to her mouth, continuing the kiss as if it had never ended. Sam took the key from her hand, reaching past her to unlock the door, pushing her backwards into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. He dropped his backpack to the floor, his fingers intertwined with hers, dragging her into the bathroom.

He’d been on the road for days and before things went any further, he wanted to wash the grime from his body. But he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. While the water heated for the shower, he peeled her out of her clothes, dragging his tongue over every inch of naked skin, taking back the control he craved, he needed. Once she was naked in front of him, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, he picked her up and set her on the edge of the sink, and dropped to his knees in front of her.

The scent of her arousal flooded his senses, her quiet moans as he dragged his nose up her thigh shot straight to his cock, hardening it instantly. He wanted to devour her, consume her, but he forced himself to take his time, to let his lips drift over her soft, silky skin, her hips rising to push toward him. His tongue darted out, a slow swipe through the lips of her pussy, a groan leaving him as her taste assaulted him. She gripped the edge of the sink with one hand, the other tangling in his long hair, tugging him closer, begging him to stop teasing under her breath.

His hands slid up her thighs and around her ass, cupping it in both hands and pulling her forward, diving in, his tongue sliding inside of her, a shudder running through her, her thighs trembling around his head.

God, she tasted so fucking good, felt so fucking good. He hadn’t been with anyone in months,not since he’d hooked up with a sorority girl at one of the hundreds of parties that always seemed to be happening on campus. She’d been drunk, he’d been mostly drunk, and it had been the sloppiest, least satisfying sex he’d ever had. But, this, this was going to be mind-blowingly good. He knew it, could feel it in his bones. This woman knew what she liked, what she wanted, and from the noises she was making, she wasn’t afraid to vocalize it.

The room was filling with steam, his body dripping with sweat, her body convulsing as the orgasm rocked her. When he finally released her, she slid to her feet, clinging to him, panting. He yanked off his clothes and pulled her into the shower with him, using the soap to massage and caress her. She was trembling and moaning by the time he rinsed the soap from their bodies and turned off the shower.

After that, she couldn’t keep her hands off of him, ripping the towel from his hands even though he’d barely wiped the droplets of water from his body, her body pressed to his, her hand closing around his cock, stroking him roughly. They stumbled their way out of the bathroom to the bed, hands everywhere, lips connected, bodies thrumming with desire.

He pushed her to the bed, his hand between her legs, two fingers deep, her body open and ready for him after the things they’d been doing in the shower. He pumped his fingers and pressed his thumb to her clit, her back arching, a gasping squeal falling from her lips, her hips bucking wildly as she came again.

Taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself, he pulled her legs around his waist and eased into her, taking his time, burying himself inside of her before slowly pulling out, so slow she was digging her nails into his ass, her hips rising to meet his, her thighs trembling. He kept it up until he couldn’t take anymore, his control snapped and then he was pounding into her, the cheap headboard slamming into the wall, the bed squeaking, her cries filling the room. He tangled his fingers in her hair, tipping her head back, desperate to run his tongue over her neck, nipping, biting, sucking, marking her. He slammed forward one last time, buried to the hilt, shuddering as he came.

He rolled to his back, his fingers drifting across her skin, grimacing as his cock fell against his leg. It was only then that he realized he wasn’t wearing a condom. He pushed himself up, turning to her, apologies flying from his lips, but she only smiled, pushed his hair from his face, and kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth.

Sam smiled at her, let her push him to his back, let her straddle him, her hands on his chest, his on her waist, her breasts brushing against him as she leaned over to kiss him, her pussy brushing against his already hardening cock. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight, not when she was rocking back and forth, using him to get herself off, her slick covering him, her nails leaving red welts on his skin when she dragged them down his chest. He was so far gone it took him a minute to realize that she was lowering herself onto him, moaning as he filled her.

This time it was over quickly, both of them wound so tight that they came quick as lightning, completely satisfied. She crawled out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom, and he could hear the water running. She returned a few minutes later, falling into the bed beside him, her head on his arm. They dozed, comfortable in each other’s arms.

She woke him a couple of hours later, her lips wrapped around his cock, her tongue moving in this crazy way that had him gasping and moaning, and pushing himself into her mouth, groaning when he hit the back of her throat. He was about to come, let loose down her throat, when she released him with a wet pop, pushed herself to her hands and knees, looking coyly at him over her shoulder.

He entered from behind, pounding into her, skin slapping against skin, his fingers digging into her hips. She pushed back against him, her head resting on her arms, her fingers twisted in the sheets on the bed. She was moaning, obscene sounds that made his blood boil with need. When she reached between her legs, her fingers sliding through the lips of her pussy, grazing her clit, brushing his cock as he slid in and out of her, he couldn’t hold back his own grunts of pleasure.

It went on like that for hours, sleeping, then waking to have sex, doing things he’d only ever imagined doing. She was insatiable, all over him, wanting him again and again until he collapsed at dawn from sheer exhaustion, unable to keep his eyes open a minute longer.

When he finally woke, the sun was not where he expected it to be; it was shining through the curtains at an odd angle, on the wrong side of the room for early morning. He pushed himself up on his elbows, expecting there to be a warm body beside him. Instead, there were cold sheets and a piece of paper with the hotel name embossed on top, neat cursive writing sprawled across it.

_I am the flower, you are the seed._   
_We walked in the garden, we planted a tree._   
_Don’t try to find me, please don’t you dare._ _  
You’ll live in my memory, you’ll always be there._

She was gone and he didn’t even know her name.

* * *

_Nine years later_

He recognized her as soon as she opened the door, as soon as she opened her mouth and started to speak. His memory was flooded with the sounds of her pleasure, her moans and gasps, her screams of ecstasy. It had been nine years since he’d seen her, nine years since that night. He knew she recognized him as well; she did a double take, stepping back in surprise, a startled ‘oh’ coming from her. He did his best to keep his composure, introducing himself and Dean as agents Wilson and Wilson (no relation ma’am).

She cleared her throat and invited them in, smiling helpfully, answering all of Dean’s questions. Sam was frozen, quiet, letting his brother lead the questioning, trying desperately to ignore Dean’s curious glances, and the subtle hints that were an attempt to get him to speak.

They were nearly done, all of the questions asked and answered, their business cards in her hand, when a little girl, probably around eight or nine years old ran into the room. She bounced up to them, smiling shyly, shaking both of their hands politely.

He couldn’t stop staring at her, at her long brown hair, and her hazel eyes, eyes that changed color with the light. Eyes that looked too much like the ones that stared back at him in the mirror.

She walked them to the door, her hand on Sam’s arm as she opened it, squeezing it gently. She didn’t need to speak, he could see everything he needed to know in her eyes. He smiled at her, ruffled the little girl’s hair and followed his brother to the car.

They  were almost back to the motel when the text message came, the one he’d been expecting ever since he’d handed her his card.

_Please, please understand._   
_I’m in love with another man._   
_And what he couldn’t give me,_ _  
Was the one little thing that you can._

He dropped the phone into his lap and rubbed a hand over his face, ignoring Dean when he asked him if he was okay.

The answer would have been no.


End file.
